


Vapor Trail

by orphan_account



Series: Vapor Trail [1]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-21
Updated: 2013-03-21
Packaged: 2017-12-06 00:17:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/729513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"They're red roses, aren't they?" ・・・ Aviator!Kise/Florist!Kuroko</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vapor Trail

 

Like usual, Kuroko will go to the sunflower field to check on the flowers after he finishes arranging the flowers just as the shop owner tells him.

Near the flower shop he works at, there's an aviation academy, he can see the buildings from the sunflower field. Everyday, there is this blond man with a silver piercing on his left ear—he said that he's a pilot and also an instructor in that aviation academy—who comes to the shop and tries to chat with him, and sometimes even hits on him with cheesy lines.

Sometimes he will sneak into the sunflower field and tease him—all of those hugs and teasing kisses. Sometimes he is found absent mindedly plucking some sunflower petals or some tulip from the garden beside the shop, and gets the two of them scolded—even though Kuroko does not do anything. He reasons that he's just "thinking of Kurokocchi too much it hurts" so he starts doing dangerous things.

Not that Kuroko dislikes it though, but he admits that he's kind of annoyed.

After he has done with the checking, he goes back to the flower shop and sees the shop owner arranging a bouquet of flowers.

"Done with your work, young man?" She smiles as she puts a flower stalk carefully into the bouquet.

"Yes," he says as he smiles back. He really wants to offer a help but he can't bring himself to ask because the flowers she's arranging seem too beautiful and he also knows that they're pretty expensive—he's afraid that he will ruin them.

"Nah! It's done!" she exclaims cheerfully as she looks at her work proudly.

"You arrange them amazingly," Kuroko compliments her and smiles again, just as expected from an expert florist. But his smile fades when she hands over the bouquet to him.

"Here."

Kuroko blinks a few times as he accepts the bouquet.

"Um… where do you want me to send it to?" he asks.

"What do you say? It's for you," she giggles.

"But… it's expensive, isn't it?" he panics. Why does she gave him an expensive bouquet out of blue? It's not even his birthday or anything. And he doesn't even have money to buy a single stalk of carnation at the moment.

"Don't worry, someone paid for it."

Kuroko blinks again and wonders, who is this idiot who's willing to buy him an expensive bouquet of flowers from the flower shop  **he works at**?

Then he tries to list some idiots in his mind and searches for some posibilities.

Is it Aomine, the police officer from the nearby police station? No, he complained that his salary is too low just two days ago, there's no way he'll do this!

Is it from Midorima, the doctor from the hospital across the street? Definitely, no. Even though he's pretty close to Midorima and Midorima is one of their frequent customer, he's most likely not idiot enough to buy and give flowers from a flower shop to someone who works in the said flower shop.

Is it Murasakibara, the chef from the bakery beside the flower shop? Nah, even though he gives Kuroko some delicious left overs almost everyday, he probably will never use his money to buy flowers.

Is it Akashi, the rich man who lives across the river near the shop? Maybe this is the right ans—

Kuroko's trail of thoughts is cut by the shop owner's words…

"It's that blond hottie from the academy." She winks at him.

"Ah…" he slips that sound out and looks at the flower bouquet.

It's him…

Somehow he's both not surprised and surprised at the same time. One, he's definitely the idiot who will buy him flowers from the shop he works at. Two, for what reason he gives this to him?

"Oh, Lord! I forgot this one!" She jumps a bit when she remembers something. She takes out a yellow envelope from her green apron's pocket and gives it to him. "He left this letter, I forgot to attach it on the bouquet. I'm sorry, dear."

Kuroko doesn't say anything, he takes the envelope and opens it. He reads the letter, the writing is a bit messy, must be his own handwriting.

 _Kurokocchi, I go to Europe. Now that I won't meet you for months, I'll leave this bouquet to you. Ah, actually... I want to give kiku (chrysanthemums) for you, I believe that it means something good, but the shop owner says that it means death in Europe when I tell her that I'll go to Europe! So cruel! When it's the first initial of our names... TTATT_  
Humm... forget that.  
I'm sorry, I can only give you flowers. When I get back, I'll buy you a garden!  
Right now, if you're outside, and you look at the sky and see a vapor trail... most likely it's me. Please wave your hand...  
Uh... you don't have to if you don't want to.  
Please take care of yourself, I wish you will get the job as a kindergarten teacher like one of your dreams, soon. And please wait for me...

_Kise Ryouta_

He looks at the shop owner who looks at him back. It takes him a few seconds to open his mouth.

"They're red roses, aren't they?" he asks.

She nods.

"You know the language of flowers?"

He waits for the answer after she nods.

"Of course, I know, dear," she says. "It means true love."

"Thank you," he mutters as he bows down and then walks in a fast pace outside the shop. He looks at the baby blue sky and see a thin vapor trail of a leaving airplane.

He doesn't wave his hand. Of course he won't. He's not that blond idiot anyway.

He embraces the bouquet tightly in his hands—but makes sure that he doesn't squeeze them too tight and crush them. And bows his head, smells the sweet fragrance, and closes his eyes.

'Please be safe... Please be safe...'

—

**End.**


End file.
